


Yorkshire Dreaming

by KittieHill



Series: Prompts [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Masturbation, Matress humping, Mutual Masturbation, Not much plot, Sharing a Bed, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot. Written in about an hour. Not beta'd, added to prompts because *shrugs* why not</p>
<p>I have an obsession with wet dreams, bed humping, mutual masturbation and coming in pants. I want more Sherlock stories like that so wrote my own.</p>
<p>The B&B is based on the one i recently stayed in with my partner in York, the photo of the Minster is below</p>
<p>Please comment! Or add me on @HereKittieKat and http://kittiekatthings.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yorkshire Dreaming

[York Minster](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3f/YorkMinsterWest.jpg)

 

* * *

John punched his pillow to attempt to fluff up the useless flat sack beneath him; his head collapsing onto it with a huffed breath as he looked over at Sherlock beside him sleeping peacefully. John had complained bitterly when the hotel had insisted they only had one room left; even Mycroft apparently couldn’t sort out two single rooms in a completely booked out York.

They had arrived on a case; a murder which intrigued Sherlock and had them running down the old cobbled streets of York, dodging the tourists and locals who had turned out in their thousands for the annual Christmas market. Sherlock had solved the murder promptly after climbing up to the highest part of the Minster; apparently one of the stonemasons who were contracted to refit the Minster had agreed to hide evidence in the stonework of a gargoyle. John had laughed when Sherlock climbed back down, his face sweaty and covered with dust but flushed with the adrenalin which came with solving a puzzle. Sherlock had stopped off at the market and bought them both a traditional Danish pastry and mulled wine to take back to the guesthouse where they had been booked in under an alias. John’s blog had become popular all over the country (and even in America) which had caused some problems when trying to stealthily solve crimes.

The B&B was nice enough, comfortable and quiet with a well-stocked bar and a friendly manager who didn’t flinch when the two men came in for their keys. John had expected a frosty reception ( _there had been numerous nationwide newspaper articles of gay men being refused rooms together due to the hotelier’s strict religious views)_ but John was pleased when the staff simply bid them good night and offered them breakfast the next morning. He didn’t even have the urge to exclaim ‘we’re not a couple’, instead just smiled and thanked the kindly old man.

Sherlock grunted and started up the stairs carrying his bag, he was tiring now, the long journey from London hadn’t allowed either man to sleep as other commuters bustled around them or bumped into their seats as they walked past. John was accustomed to lack of sleep but even he was feeling the urge to crash into bed.

Which is how he ended up lying beside a snoring detective who hogged the blankets and starfished the mattress.

The bed was small even by John’s size forcing Sherlock’s legs to hang off the end comically; John had been exhausted as he climbed the three floors of stairs to their room but once inside the space he had groaned at the realisation of sleeping so close to Sherlock in a tiny bed. He attempted to shower but the water pressure was terrible, the hot water refusing to work leaving the doctor shivering in the slow trickle of fluid.

John had climbed into the bed and clicked on the TV watching the local news show pictures of the culprit being led away in handcuffs whilst also showing a dusty Sherlock striding away from the Minster with his long coat flowing behind him like a crime fighting superhero. John chuckled and looked over at Sherlock who was fast asleep;

The detective looked angelic when he slept, the worn creases of his face lightened as he relaxed into the pillows ( _including the one he had stolen from John’s side whilst he showered)_ he was laid on his front, his face half buried in the white pillowcase whilst his eyelids fluttered in a deep sleep. John sighed again and let his hand run over his stomach resting just above his navel.

He really wanted a wank. Well, he wanted sex but sex wasn’t available to him so a wank would have to do… except he really didn’t want to get out of bed and lock himself into the bathroom and he didn’t want to do it beside Sherlock in such a small space so he would have to wait. The doctor took a deep breath and closed his eyes attempting an old trick he had learnt in the army _(think 1 with an inhale, 2 with an exhale)_ eventually the counting worked its magic and John slept.

The sound of Sherlock’s ragged breathing woke him some time later; the doctor was confused at his surroundings and the strangeness of the noises outside the window before realising that he wasn’t at Baker Street, he was in York with Sherlock. The bloom of panic which had begun in his chest fizzled away and he exhaled shakily before hearing Sherlock’s whine once more,

‘Sherlock?’ John whispered into the darkness, the light from outside was enough to make out Sherlock’s shape and features but not enough to read the man’s expression.

Sherlock didn’t reply, another pained whine left his lips as John looked harder at the shape, clicking on the small bedside light beside him. Sherlock lay on his front still; his face in the pillows but the covers wrapped around his waist baring Sherlock’s naked back and the waistband of his pyjama bottoms to John.

His hips twitched

John watched enraptured as Sherlock thrust minutely, sweet whimpers escaping his lips as he pressed his cock into the mattress whilst groaning deeply. His eyelashes fluttered wildly in REM sleep as John watched, ashamed of his own reactions.

His cock was harder than he had ever felt; it lay heavily against his stomach dripping wetness onto the line of hair between his navel and pubic hair.

‘Sherlock’ John hissed again, louder this time ‘Wake up’

Sherlock’s eyes blinked open and his pupils fixed on John before realising what his bottom half was doing,

‘Oh god’ Sherlock muttered ‘Sorry’

‘I didn’t want you to be embarrassed by waking up in a mess. Want me to leave so you can finish?’ John asked softly, careful not to spook the detective.

‘Yes…No… I don’t know’ Sherlock admitted ‘I don’t usually…’

‘You don’t usually what?’ John asked breathily

Sherlock turned and sat so his back was against the headboard, his hands gesturing crudely before cupping his own cock to hide the bulge from John.

‘You don’t normally wank?’ John asked shocked before biting his lip ‘sorry’

Sherlock blushed but realised his hand was still traitorously rubbing his bulge, he was so desperately close to releasing when he woke that he was actually aching.

‘Just…. Close your eyes’ John whispered, grabbing his own cock and stroking it lazily.

Sherlock followed John’s instruction without argument and closed his eyes tightly as he gripped himself between thumb and index finger,

‘Just – stroke until it feels – _oh_ \- good’ John groaned, his hips stuttering slightly,

‘I-It-oh’ Sherlock mumbled, his mind blown apart by the stimulation from the small bundle of nerves under the glistening and red head,

‘Okay Sherlock’ John whispered ‘I’m going to cum soon, can you feel it building?’

‘Y-Y-Yes’ the younger man whimpered, his hips thrusting shakily

‘Relax and concentrate on the sensations, let them flow through your body’ the doctor whispered, his voice deeper with arousal.

Sherlock’s back arched and he erupted with a loud cry of _John, oh god John_ as his cum covered his bare chest, the sheets and his pyjama bottoms. The smell of ejaculate mingled with the unbelievably erotic sound of Sherlock shouting his name in bliss was enough to tip John over the edge into his own climax, he grunted once, twice and then ribbons of white coated his lower stomach and fist.

‘Christ’ John mumbled, sweat running down his back and forehead ‘that was…’

‘Intense’ Sherlock finished with the goofy smile which John loved.

John grabbed for the tissues on the cabinet and wiped himself down before handing some to Sherlock.

‘Mmmmm, night then’ Sherlock grinned curling onto his side ‘We can talk tomorrow, I’m sleepy’

John chuckled and shook his head ‘Night Sherlock’


End file.
